


What You Want

by RosieofCorona



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, House Lannister, Inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, My fic, Pre-A Game of Thrones, Tywin Lannister - Freeform, cersei lannister - Freeform, jaime lannister - Freeform, joanna lannister - Freeform, o well, these sweet babies, tyrion lannister - Freeform, tywin is still terrible, tywin x joanna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieofCorona/pseuds/RosieofCorona
Summary: Ya girl is back at it again with terrible ficlets, aka I cannot ever stop thinking about my sweet Lannister babies.So here is a little bitty Tywin and Joanna Lannister story from before they are married.PS—Originally posted on my tumblr, lanaxdelxbae. Feel free to leave feedback here or there, if that’s your thing. Thank you for stopping by!





	What You Want

“You wanted to see me, my lord?”

Tywin is seated at the long trestle table in the Tower of the Hand. He is only now sitting down to dinner, and though he eats alone the feast looks fit to feed half of King’s Landing.

He nods a curt dismissal at the servant pouring his wine. She is a young, wispy thing called Palla, Joanna seems to recall as the girl hurries away, doubtless aware of her lord’s thin patience for dawdling. At the door, Palla gives a little curtsy which Tywin does not notice.

When they are alone, Joanna feels his eyes on her. “It’s been three days.”

She has approached, undaunted, and now picks a fat, ruby-colored grape from a gilded platter. “Has it?” A drop of juice glides down over her lip before she wipes it with her little finger. Gingerly, she sucks the sticky sweetness from her skin.

His cousin has always been bold, Tywin knows, and why shouldn’t she be? Unashamed, she delights in the way the people whisper about her wherever she goes, in shock and awe and envy. And who would dare punish her for it? She is a Lannister, a favored lady of the court, the rumored paramour of the two most powerful men in Westeros, one of whom is seated before her, simmering with impatience.

Tywin does not ever publicly admit that he delights in it, too. Her brazenness. Her temerity. Only in their quiet moments does he concede, when there is no one else to see how weak she makes him, how willing. If Joanna fears him as others do, it never shows. It makes Tywin love her. It gives her power.

Tonight, however, he is in no mood for her usual charms. Three days have passed since he asked for her hand, and for three days she has given him no answer. Three days of uncertainty, of restlessness, of distraction from his duties. Enough is enough.

“Joanna.” She surveys the colorful, artfully arranged dishes on the table and selects a candied date, the exasperation in Tywin’s voice rising. “You must decide. Please.”

The last word catches her by surprise, but she does her best not to react. Tywin Lannister is not a begging man. She chews thoughtfully, then plucks the pit from from her mouth. Turning it this way and that like a crystal ball, she examines it for an answer.

“Tell me what you want, Tywin.”

For a moment, Joanna wonders if she has gone too far, is she has teased too much. His jaw is set. The sound of bone on bone, the grinding of teeth, tells her that he is fighting for composure. “I will not ask you again.”

“Then don’t.”

She is close now, close enough to place the pit squarely in the center of his empty plate, which she does without hesitation. When she takes his face in her hands, her jeweled eyes are reflected in his own. “Tell me,” she repeats softly, “what you want.”

Something in him ignites, sets his senses alight like wildfire, burning from the inside out. Suddenly he understands.

“Marry me.”

This is what she wants. She wants him to exert his authority. She wants Tywin to claim her, to make her his own. This time it is not a question.

“Yes.”

He is standing with his hands in her hair, kissing her, consumed by inner fire. “Marry me,” he commands between breaths. “Marry me.” Each time is more confident than the last, and each time she presses her lips to his more fervently than before.

When they break apart, she is breathless, a wicked grin biting into her cheeks. “Did you truly believe I would refuse you?”

Tywin shakes his head. He cannot help the smile that creeps over his face. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Then you needn’t have asked. Only say what you desire,” Joanna whispers, eyes glittering. “And I will give it to you.”


End file.
